


Vigil

by c_violet



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_violet/pseuds/c_violet
Summary: Not Pictured (s2e22) missing scene: between the Grand and Keith's return, Logan stands vigil.





	Vigil

Logan braces for the impact of a bullet that never comes, waking with a start from yet another semi-conscious dream. This time it was Aaron on the rooftop with the gun, threatening to kill her unless Logan admitted he’d killed Lilly. Behind Aaron, Beaver was laughing and laughing, boasting of having taken her too. Logan’s pulse is racing as he wakes, the weight of the night’s events settling back into his consciousness. He looks down and is reassured that at least _she_ is still there, impossibly fragile but yet solidly real and warm against him, one small hand still loosely gripping the hem of his t-shirt. Her head is twisted awkwardly, exposing one tear-tracked cheek, and though he dreads the loss of her warm weight against his lap, grounding him in this waking nightmare, he cannot let her sleep like this all night.

Gently, he scoops her into his arms and rises from the couch, carefully making his way to her room. She does not stir as he lays her down on the bed and he is glad she has found peace for a moment in sleep. Sitting next to her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, Logan hesitates. He wants to stretch out alongside her, pull her into his arms, keep her safe and locked away from the realities morning will bring, and yet he hesitates, unsure as to the rules. All the rules will have to be rewritten now--After--but Logan fears he has not yet earned back this intimacy. He pulls the comforter higher, tucking it around her shoulders as he brushes the lightest of kisses on her forehead.

Back on the couch, his long frame awkwardly folded, he watches the door. Who is there left to watch for? Aaron is dead. Aaron is dead, and Logan feels nothing but exhaustion. Keith is dead. Keith, who rightfully should come through that door and demand to know what Logan thinks he’s doing inside this house, is dead, disappeared in a burst of flame that Logan could still see reflected in Veronica’s eyes hours later. 

When morning comes, he wakes from fitful sleep to find the nightmare hasn’t lifted. Luckily, Logan is a pro at grief. He knows better than to waste his time on denial or bargaining, and he’s already fully stocked with anger and depression, so he moves straight to acceptance. They’ll need to leave, of course. Veronica will probably want to stay and avenge her father, but he can’t let her put herself through that again. It doesn’t matter why, or how, or who, or what; diagramming all the parts won’t change their sum. There is nothing left for them in Neptune. Maybe he could buy an island somewhere – his father’s money has to be good for something – and they could walk in endless loops around the beaches, never encountering another human to remind them of the wreckage left behind. Or maybe Veronica would insist on a normal life rather than some escapist cliché, maybe he could get her safely settled at some college where no one has heard of Neptune or Lilly Kane or Aaron Echolls. Maybe she’d even let him buy a small apartment near campus, so he could stay close to her. That’s the extent of his planning, really – to stay close to Veronica. He’ll go wherever she wants, do whatever it takes to give her a new life, just so long as he can hold on to the last good thing in his life. He’ll take care of her, because that’s the only version of taking care of himself he has left.

He’ll start with the basics, he thinks. Food. When Lynn died, the housekeeper had made him pancakes for a week straight, wordlessly reverting to his childhood favorites. Logan’s not sure his skills are up to pancakes yet, but there’s a package of bacon in the refrigerator, and that he can probably handle. Bacon and toast and coffee. It’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written May 2006. Rescued from my archives.


End file.
